


Rubbed Raw

by objectlesson



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Age Play, Butch/Femme, Dirty Talk, F/F, Frottage, Light Dom/sub, Mommy Kink, Rubbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22055287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/objectlesson/pseuds/objectlesson
Summary: Doc loves to watch her baby girl rub off on things.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	Rubbed Raw

**Author's Note:**

> This is just smut, slightly edited and lengthened from a Drabble someone requested on tumblr. I've had a super fucking stressful few weeks and apparently all I can do is frantically write to feel like I'm in control of one little thing, so here's one last fic for 2019. Enjoy!

Doc loves to watch her baby girl rub off on things. 

She’s not sure _why,_ exactly, but she’s also never been one to pick apart something that feels good; she doesn’t need to figure out which of their histories or traumas or formative locker-room experiences led to things being the way they are. She just knows what gets her hot, and watching Lightning’s cunt get pinked and pinker as she bucks against something _does_ it. 

She likes the way it _looks:_ those wide, plush hips working against a pillow or the heel of her hand or the arm of the couch, the flex of her muscles, the perspiration beading at her temples, her lips swollen because she always bites them when she’s close. Doc likes being fully clothed while Lightning is stripped naked, she likes maintaining her composure while Lightning crumbles like a rocky shore battered to dust by the sea. She likes watching her get desperate, and beg, and cry, always. But when she’s getting off on something inanimate, it feels like they’re _both_ being denied, or teased, and Doc likes that, too. Wanting to touch so bad, and not being able to. 

Right now she’s got Lightning in bed, straddling her lap and sucking her fingers so deep she feels the reflexive gag around her knuckles every time she slides home and coughs, pulling off with pink, swollen, spit slick lips and her eyes stricken and wide. She does this when she wants to be fingered, when she wants Doc to put her on her stomach and prop her hips up and fuck her hard and fast until she soaks the bed. Doc’s not gonna _do_ that though, not today. She’s still in her work jeans and tucked in flannel and Lightning’s in nothing but a worn out sports bra and sweat pants, and she’s _already_ imagining it. How pretty she’ll look taking that all off, and rubbing her cunt on something until she’s gasping and shuddering and Doc is dry-mouthed with want just from watching. “Love your hands,” Lightning murmurs, licking a hot strip up the center of Doc’s palm. “Been thinking about them all day.” 

“Oh yeah?” Doc asks idly, using her free hand to feel Lightning up, squeeze her side and palm over the soft heft of her tits before she tugs the strap of her bra from one shoulder. “Get this off for me, baby. Show me how hard those nipples are.” 

She whimpers, pressing a kiss to Doc’s pulse in her wrist before sitting back and peeling her bra off. Doc sits back and admires because _damn,_ Lightning has the most perfect tits she’s ever seen, and they take her breath away every fucking time. They’re not particularly big, or even, or perky, really, but Doc absolutely loves how soft they feel, how wide and puffy her areolas are, how they hang low and heavy on her narrow ribcage, perfect tender handfuls to squeeze and suck and worship. Doc’s mouth waters as Lightning settles back into her, and she thumbs over her nipples with her lip tight between her teeth. “Damn, look at you, so perfect,” Doc breathes, thumbing over her left nipple until it draws tight.

“Fuck me?” Lightning asks in a singsong voice, already playing with her waistband, tugging it down her hips low enough Doc can see the point at which the soft, gold trail of hair beneath her navel darkens and thickens. 

“Not tonight,” Doc murmurs, reaching for the beer she hasn’t even gotten to take a decent sip of since she came in for the garage. Lightning watches her press the bottle neck to her lower lip and take a leisurely sip. 

“My hands are tired from working, kid. I wanna see you put on a show. Want to see you rub that pretty pussy off for me.” 

“Fuck,” Lightning groans, stomach muscles visibly tightening at the suggestion. She’s a show-off, she likes to be watched as much as Doc likes watching her. “Yeah? What do you want me to rub against, mommy?” she asks breathlessly, struggling out of her sweats, spreading her thighs. 

“The bedpost,” Doc decides, tonguing her cheek thoughtfully. The bedpost is a mutual favorite of theirs; Doc has a fancy stained mahogany bed-frame with four posters, all of which are topped in a smooth, oval knob at perfect grinding-height for Lightning. “Spread yourself over it, baby. Show me how bad you need it.” 

Lightning groans and rolls off the bed to arrange herself, one foot resting on the ground, the other knee bent and braced against the mattress. Doc throws back more of her beer, throat tight and mouth dry as she watches. Lightning is _mouth watering,_ her blonde hair coming undone from her loose messy bun and drifting down to stick to freckled shoulders, her mouth open and gasping as she settles into place, wincing as she spreads her cunt lips over the bedpost. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. How does it feel?” Doc asks, voice low and raspy. 

Lightning is already humping it, gasping a little as she finds the best position. It always starts like this, with hungry little bucks of her hips, everything stilted and careful until she finds a rhythm, the right pressure. Then, when she gets it right…fuck. There’s nothing more beautiful, her body tense and quaking, her tits bouncing, her moans punched out of her in short, choked fractions as she rides whatever she’s straddling to finish. Doc _loves_ it, loves watching her build, come apart, and then collapse in sweat and tremors. “Feels good,” she huffs out. “Do I look good?” 

“Like heaven,” Doc murmurs, stomach swooping at the clench of Lightning’s quads as she really starts to rock against it. She rolls her hips sluttily, spine curling as she humps. It’s clear she’s got the angle right when she quickens the pace, gasping, pouting. Doc can hardly breathe just _watching._

Lightning’s pubes are long enough right now Doc can’t see much through the thatch of dark blonde. When Lightning’s waxed smooth she can track the way her skin gets pink with friction, how sloppy and slick she makes the wood from rubbing all over it. So, after a few minutes of drinking the sight in hungrily while she sips her beer, she decides she wants more. 

“Show me, babygirl,” she demands, gesturing loosely into the space between them, Lightning’s gaze trained hard and fast to her hand like she’s still thinking about it, the loose shift of skin over her knuckles, the blunt, neat nails and calloused palms. 

“Show you what?” 

“How wet you are. How raw. Spread for me,” she clarifies.

Lightning makes a sound in her throat, reluctantly pulling herself up off the bedpost and shifting towards the leg she has on the mattress, so Doc can see everything. Then, she reaches down with her index and middle finger and spreads her outer lips, revealing a flash of red-pink between them. “M’so wet,” she admits, dipping a finger into her slit and rubbing the shining slickness back over her clit, which looks so swollen and suckable Doc can hardly breathe. “And a little sore.” 

“Yeah, you need a kiss?” Doc asks, setting her beer down. “Come here angel, let me kiss it. Make it feel better.” 

Crawling over on all fours, Lightning’s eyes flash, glazed over with that special, dazed, stunned look she always gets when she’s being told exactly what to do. Lightning straddles Doc’s lap, watching and trembling while she shuffles her way down the bed low enough she can get her mouth where she wants it. “God, look at you. All puffy and red. So desperate, rubbing off for me,” Doc murmurs, thumbing aside the thickest part of Lightning’s pubic hair to really _look_ at her, how pink, how wet, how gorgeous. 

“Kiss it mommy, please,” she murmurs, hips pumping in the air, seeking pressure, seeking _anything._ Doc’s half-gone herself, too mad with wanting to tease, to maintain control. She thumbs Lightning’s lips apart gently and does as she’s told, kissing her right on the clit, making her gasp and shudder, the whole of her body melting under Doc’s mouth. 

Once she’s there, she can’t stop. She’s gonna lick Lightning’s cunt until she comes; there’s no coming back from this. “God, baby, taste so _raw,_ lemme make that feel better, huh?” she says gently, shifting down and hooking her arms around Lightning’s thighs so she can really dive in, flick her tongue up and down Lightning’s slit to just _taste_ her, get the full spectrum of salt and metal and honey and gold. 

“Oh—oh _god,_ mommy, please,” Lightning sobs, thrusting messily against Doc’s mouth, hands raking through her short silver crew cut. Doc knows how to grip her hips, how to hold her just right so she feels contained but can still feel friction, motion. She just groans against the slick heat of her cunt, sucking the hard nub of her clit into her lips to nurse hungrily until she comes. 

It happens in waves. In moments of stillness and silence between earthquakes, and Doc is _so fucking grateful_ and moved that Lightning still comes for her like this, that she still gives herself over to the sway of it so powerfully. Her fingers cramp up as she grips her tight through the aftershocks, and the they go slack just as Lightning does, melting into her arms, down her body in a naked, sweat-slicked mess. “Fuck,” she murmurs into her neck once she gets her voice back after the sobs. 

“M’still shaking.” 

“You still want to be fucked?” Doc asks, palming down to her ass and squeezing, drunk on all this skin, all this breath. 

“Thought your hands were hurting?” Lightning asks, threading her fingers messily through Doc’s and squeezing gently. 

Doc shrugs. “A little. But not as much as I want to see you on your stomach with your ass in the air,” she explains, swatting Lightning’s left cheek, firm enough the less undulates in her palm. “Go on, baby girl. Show me what you want.” 

And Lightning does everything fast, so she doesn’t waste any time. “Please,” she murmurs once she’s into position, cheek hot and red against the sheets. “Please, mommy.” 

Doc rolls up her sleeves, finishes off her beer, and gets to work. 


End file.
